


a kiss goodnight

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, I'm a sucker for a trope, I'm over it now lets have some fun, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, Spellcest, Spellcest Prompt Challenge, pure filth, yeah the whole going to hell thing and whatnot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 00:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17928971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: Zelda is having a truly dreadful Witch Epiphany.





	a kiss goodnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imustgofirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imustgofirst/gifts).



> Okay, so here’s the thing: I wrote this for the first Together As Sisters challenge for the “sharing a bed” prompt, but I clearly did not finish it in time. But, since I created the challenge to begin with, I figured I can play fast and loose with the rules. Anyway, my wife loves a good trope fic, and I like my wife, so here we are. I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think — comments make my day!

Zelda is having a truly dreadful Witch Epiphany. 

Spellmans are packed into every spare corner of the mortuary, parents and uncles and cousins and grandparents milling about in preparation of the next day’s feast. There are ill-tempered, energetic children everywhere, most of them taking up residence in _her_ bedroom, in _her_ bed, leaving _her_ relegated to sharing the small double bed in a little room on the third floor with her sister. 

The first night is unpleasant. 

Zelda had forgotten just how much squirming Hilda does in her sleep; the older witch finally slings an arm over her sister’s waist, curls her body against Hilda’s back, and holds her steady. 

Hilda groggily asks for a kiss goodnight. Zelda presses her lips chastely to Hilda’s blonde curls. 

She wakes early with a hand on her sister’s heavy breast and wetness between her thighs. 

The second night is torture. 

They sit up reading, Zelda with her Satanic Bible, Hilda with a salacious novel. Hilda’s interest is evident: with every scandalous passage she reads, the blonde’s toes wiggle. Hilda also flushes a vibrant red, her breathing labored as she pretends to be shocked rather than aroused. 

Zelda can hardly be faulted for sneaking glances toward Hilda’s blush-pink delocotage, for squeezing her thighs together at the sight of pebbled peaks pressed against cotton.

Hilda is still a fetching shade of pink when she puts her book down and turns to her sister, asking for a kiss goodnight. 

Zelda’s lips brush over Hilda’s cheek. The younger woman turns into the kiss, and Zelda’s mouth lands on the corner of her sister’s. 

It’s the closest they’ve come to a real kiss. 

Zelda doesn’t sleep that night for the incessant pounding between her legs.

The third night is shaping up to be worse than an eternity in the pit. 

Zelda is acutely aware of Hilda’s presence in the bed beside her, the warmth of her cotton-clad thigh a furnace against Zelda’s silk-covered hip. She is aware of the heady, earthy smell that she associates only with Hilda. Her head spins and _oh,_ how has she not noticed that several buttons of her sister’s night dress are undone, the fabric gaping to reveal the delectable swell of breasts.

Zelda desperately wants to fuck her younger sister through the mattress, wants to indulge in the euphoric swell of their magic and their shared bliss. 

There are nineteen Spellmans in the mortuary at this moment, most of whom would frown on Zelda’s train of thought. 

Herself included. 

Down the hall in Ambrose’s room, music begins to thump. A woman’s shrill laugh sounds loudly through the walls and then, to Zelda’s horror, a moan. 

“It sounds like Ambrose has made a friend.” 

More laughter, and Zelda distinguishes four different voices. “Several friends, it would seem.” 

Hilda snorts. “Can’t blame him for wanting a bit of fun, given that he’s all cooped up here for eternity.” It’s entirely reasonable, though Zelda could do without hearing her nephew’s loneliness abating. Hilda presses on: “Tis the season, after all.” 

“Is that disapproval I hear in your voice, sister?” she teases, staring at the ceiling. A spider creeps along the sloped roof. 

Hilda rolls onto her side, propping her head against her fist as she considers the older witch. “Envy.” Her breathing is labored. Zelda cannot look. It will be her undoing. “There’s something about the great revelation that...electrifies the air. Don’t you feel it, sister?” She trails a finger down Zelda’s arm, swirls it into the dip of her elbow, traces the delicate veins of her wrist.

Zelda closes her eyes. Yes, she can feel it, is damn near vibrating with it. “Yes.” It comes out a near-croak. She would be embarrassed if she weren’t so aware of Hilda’s breasts pressed against her arm. “You could have taken a lover in the forest.” 

“I didn’t want a shag in the woods,” Hilda replies, damnable fingers still teasing.

Zelda cannot think, cannot fight herself anymore. She turns her head, looking up at her sister. There is a small window, allowing in enough moonlight for the sisters to see each other, to find the other’s gaze and hold it. 

“What did you want, Hilda?” 

“A kiss goodnight from my sister.” 

Zelda can’t breathe. Satan, she won’t be able to stop at one kiss, not tonight, not with the intoxicating coalescence of their magic pulsing between them. Hilda knows this, knows her sister too well to know exactly what she is asking for. Hilda knows and wants her anyway and it’s all the permission Zelda needs to sling her leg over Hilda’s hips so she can straddle the younger witch. 

A strap of her silk gown falls over her shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” she breathes, falling forward until they are nose to nose, breast to breast, heart to heart. 

Hilda answers with a kiss, her lips tentative, curious, inexperienced. But then the shyness is gone, and Hilda is sucking on her lower lip, and Zelda lets out a groan. 

There is no going back from here. 

They will have to be quiet. 

Zelda’s hips rock down against Hilda’s as she surges forward, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that in no way resembles that of a platonic, sisterly meeting of mouths. This kiss is raw and sloppy and Hilda’s tongue is a gift from the Dark Lord Himself. It strokes defiantly into her sister’s mouth, licking behind teeth, tasting Zelda’s soft, keening cries.

“Your mouth is a bloody revelation,” Hilda whispers, words that could have easily been plucked from Zelda’s own mind. 

This is not supposed to be happening -- Zelda is not supposed to give in to this secret yearning, this depraved, desperate need -- but Hilda fits beneath her like she was made to languish between her sister’s thighs. 

Of course this secret is shared amongst sisters. 

Zelda’s mouth hungrily latches to Hilda’s throat, raising a vibrant purple love bite that she will have to vanish in the morning. She cannot stop, will not stop, and neither will Hilda, who grips her hips in a vice-grip that will surely leave behind bruises that Zelda will relish until long after they fade. 

Zelda is feverish, intoxicated with magic and lust and the heady taste of her sister’s lips. Hilda’s hands are on her thighs now, pushing up the floor-length hem of Zelda’s silk gown until fingers meet milky flesh.

Down the hall, a glass breaks. A woman laughs. Music is the perfect cover. 

After daybreak, Zelda will thank Ambrose and not tell him for what.

She sucks harder than she intends on the swell of her sister’s breast when Hilda’s fingers slip between her legs. Zelda is all bare heat here, and Hilda’s eyes widen, pupils blown. “Oh, Zelds...for me?” 

“Always for you,” she hisses, bearing her hips down against Hilda’s questing hand. She is desperate, shameless as she chases the pleasure of those strong, baker’s fingers against her clit. “Hilda, please…” 

“Tell me what you want, sister.” 

Zelda kisses her way back to Hilda’s mouth, luxuriating in the way it feels to stroke her tongue against the other woman’s. She stifles a moan. “Fuck me, Hildegard,” Zelda whispers against her sister’s mouth. “Make me come.” 

Hilda whimpers, emboldened by Zelda’s desperate plea. Without preamble, three fingers stroke hard inside and Zelda groans as she arches back against them, taking them in as deep as they will go. 

“Oh,” Zelda gasps, reveling in the burning stretch between her legs. She can feel Hilda everywhere. 

“You feel…” Hilda whimpers, removing her fingers just so she can plunge them in again. “Incredible.” 

“Mmm…” The older witch rocks back against Hilda’s fingers. She leans upright, groaning as those fingers slide deeper at this new angle. 

“Oh Zelda, you’re glorious,” Hilda adds with a sigh, hooking one index finger around the bust of Zelda’s lacy gown, tugging the fabric so that one pert, perky breast is exposed. 

Zelda bites her lip with a sigh as she cups her own breast, eyes darkening as she watches Hilda’s gaze fix on the way her fingers pinch and tweak one dusky, taut nipple. That delicious, fuckable mouth opens, tongue darting out to wet her lower lip, and Zelda wants that tongue back in her mouth, on her breast, against her cunt -- she wants it everywhere, wants to have Hilda again and again, wants this night to never end. She has denied herself Hilda for so long; there is so much wasted time to make up for.

But then Hilda begins to move, her own hips driving her fingers hard inside Zelda. She curls and twists her fingers, fucking her with an enthusiasm that should frighten them both but instead only delights. It lacks finesse, but Hilda moves her thumb against her sister’s clit and Zelda could care less about the blonde witch’s technique. 

There will be plenty of time to teach her.

“Harder,” Zelda begs. 

It can’t be a comfortable position for Hilda, working her hand quickly between Zelda’s legs, but there is no complaint ready on her sister’s lips; there is only quiet panting and whispered words of love. Zelda can see in the other woman’s eyes that she will not stop, not until Zelda has found her release. 

Heart pounding, Zelda grinds her hips down, groaning softly as pleasure courses through her. She can’t stop the way her hips ceaselessly ride Hilda’s fingers. The bed squeaks its incessant rhythm, mattress springs singing with each movement of their joined bodies. Zelda has always preferred her sex loud and raw and fast; she wants nothing more than to cry out her sister’s name and resents that she can’t. 

“Help me,” Hilda begs, moving her thumb away from Zelda’s clit, curling it into her palm to better thrust her fingers hard inside. 

Zelda swirls her hips as Hilda crooks her fingers toward herself, hitting every delicious spot. She has never felt like this, has never experienced such exquisite pleasure, and she grabs a fistful of her gown, exposing herself as her fingers steal between her legs. She can hear the sticky, squelching sounds of her cunt as she fucks herself against Hilda’s frantic fingers. She is breathless, rising and falling and clenching. 

“Yes, love,” Hilda coos, guiding her sister’s hips into an urgent pace with a steady hand on her hip. “I’ve wanted this forever,” the blonde witch confesses. 

Zelda closes her eyes and little lights go off behind her eyelids. She’s almost there, her pleasure about to go supernova. She can feel a scream building in her throat and she falls forward, bracing herself with a free hand beside her sister’s head as she grinds back against her fingers. “Forever and ev—oh!”

Hilda’s lips surge forward, claiming Zelda’s in a heady kiss, swallowing her cry as her climax crashes down over her. She comes hard; she _is_ pleasure, she is unholy devotion, she is rising above everything she has ever known to a secret place that only she and her sister can reach. 

There are tears in her eyes when her body stops clenching and her breathing evens out, and she kisses Hilda with more love than she ever believed herself capable of. 

Hilda whimpers, whispering, “I want you again, sister. I never knew...” Her fingers begin to move again, but Zelda grasps her hand, easing Hilda out, kissing her cramped wrist. 

“It’s my turn now, Hilda.” 

Sharp teeth nip at flesh and then Zelda is moving between parted thighs. Her cunt clenches with renewed desire upon discovering that her baby sister isn’t wearing her knickers. 

Hilda grins sheepishly. “I told you I didn’t want a shag in the woods.”

Zelda growls against golden down before parting sweet, slick folds. This is the feast she wants, not the fatted calf or long pig of tomorrow but this, only the sweet nectar between sunkissed thighs. She sweeps her tongue along the length of her cunt, lapping at musky arousal, heart racing at Hilda’s shocked mewl. 

“Satan, Zelds, I didn’t know —“

Zelda does not care about Hilda’s lack of knowledge; as she strokes and flicks and laps with her tongue, she cares only about showing the younger witch the same blinding bliss that she felt moments ago. Hilda’s hips move of their own accord, undulating against Zelda’s mouth. There are fingers gripped in her hair and Zelda groans at the sweet pain as her not-so-innocent sister chases release. 

Hilda’s heels dig into the mattress, knees bowing obscenely wide as Zelda fucks her. Her thighs tremble violently, and Zelda can almost recall her first time, the shattering catharsis that set her alight. She cannot recall her partner in that first foray into fulfilled lust but this, for Hilda, will mean more than a quick fuck in the woods. 

Zelda searches blindly for Hilda’s hand where it grips the sheet and twines their fingers together as she suckles gently at her sister’s clit. Hilda groans, low and raw, and then her hand is releasing Zelda’s hair so that it can clamp over her mouth, muffling her shout as she comes. 

Zelda greedily licks her until the spasms subside, until that pink, glistening flesh is too sensitive to be touched. Hilda squirms away, pulls Zelda to her, and holds her close. 

Down the hall, music continues to thump. 

Sisters kiss lazily, softly, as if they have all the time in the world. 

“Best Witch Epiphany yet,” Hilda mumbles against rose gold hair. 

Zelda chuckles. “It has certainly improved.” She brushes her mouth against her sister’s cheek. “Now, kiss me goodnight, Hildegard.”

\---


End file.
